The Gunwerks slogan is “1000 yards out of the box”, meaning a savvy shooter should be able to take a new rifle out of the case, chamber a round, dial for any distance out to 1000 yards, and ring steel. That’s an extraordinary claim, and one I was supremely interested in putting to the test.

The first time I hefted Browning’s new Cynergy, it left me feeling pleasantly surprised and excited to take it afield in pursuit of gobblers. The shotgun is lightweight, well balanced, carries pleasantly, and comes to the shoulder nicely.

A wide racked, deep-forked mule deer buck climbed the face of a far ridge, almost to the top and gone. My friend, an expert shot with any kind of weapon, lay prone behind his rifle, scope trained on the buck as it climbed. “Range?” The word was terse and unembellished with superfluous verbiage.

It reads the temperature. It measures the altitude. It senses the pressure. It computes the angle. And of course, it lasers the range. Zeiss’ New Victory RF meets a lot of needs in one package.

My rifle features a 24-inch stainless fluted barrel with a 1-in-9 rate of twist. It’s factory threaded for a muzzle brake or suppressor and comes with a thread protector installed. The action is stainless and boasts a 3-position, model 70 type wing safety, a Mauser controlled-round-feed claw extractor, and a magazine capacity of four.

Opening a newly arrived box at my local FFL dealership inspired a couple “Wow!” responses – one of them my own. The 1860 Richards Transition Model Type II nestling therein sports eight glorious inches of gleaming blued steel barrel, a beautifully figured walnut grip, and a very nice color-casehardened frame.

While it’s not a perfect, crisp as a Pringle 1911 trigger, it’s close. Very close. For a striker-fired pistol, it’s extraordinarily good. The flat face took me a few rounds to get used to, but when I allowed my finger to rest naturally on the trigger, migrating toward the lower end of the shoe as intended with the resulting increase in leverage, I grew to like it. For the final analysis, I applied the Lyman trigger gauge once more.

I still remember the moment. A package arrived at my remote home amidst the rough, high-elevation mule deer and elk habitat of my youth, dropped casually on the porch by the United Parcel Service driver. We lifted it, my brother and I, to a place of honor on the kitchen table, and carefully removed the contents from the packaging. Dashing to the back porch we pointed the new marvel at a distant hillside and exclaimed with glee at the result. It was the first laser rangefinder we owned, and it changed our hunting and shooting lives.

I was a young cowboy with a fondness for horses, firearms, and pretty girls, in that order. One afore-mentioned pretty girl awaited my arrival across a high mountain pass that guards my Rocky Mountain home, but as my diesel pickup growled its way upward toward the pass I knew I was going to be early for our date. So I geared down and pulled off the highway into a small patch of ponderosa timber. The motor grumbled to a halt and I lifted my most recent crush off the truck seat, it’s long frame svelte and gleaming in the late afternoon light. The action was as smooth as whipped cream sweetened with maple sugar, and I forgot all about my upcoming date. Carrying the curvaceous form a little way from the truck I swung it to eye level and squeezed. A distant twig disappeared with a thunderous crack, and smoke rose in slow spirals from the six-inch barrel of my vintage Colt Python. I was in love.